


May We Meet Again

by Na_Na_Nessa



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clexa, Commander Lexa, Endgame Clarke Griffin/Lexa, F/F, Heda Lexa, Love, Quote: May We Meet Again (The 100), Soulmates Clarke Griffin/Lexa, The 100 Femslash, wanheda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 00:18:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13512813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Na_Na_Nessa/pseuds/Na_Na_Nessa
Summary: "I'm sorry.""Don't be. You have to go back. They're your people...that's why I— that's why you're you.""Maybe someday you and I will owe nothing more to our people.""I hope so...May we meet again."





	May We Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

> This is the scene (my take on it at least) that we all wanted to see, but the camera did that magical thing where it floats up and goes out of focus, boo.
> 
> Forgive any typos or if it seems rushed, it just kinda came pouring out xD.

She stares hard at her.

“I'm sorry.”

There is true sorrow in her eyes of blue. They are not the same as they were before. They are distant and guarded; hardened with regret. Holding back what she so desperately wants to let go, but cannot. They have become like hers.

Just like hers.

“Don't be. You have to go back. They're your people,” she says with full understanding, though her throat is tight. Blue eyes glance away with disappointment at her words. She knows all too well this responsibility that forcefully rests upon her. Weighing on her. She is not used to bearing the weight like she has, but already she is slowly becoming accustomed to it. She knows —no, she _sees_ her obligation; that she feels this is something she must do, and she can only support her decision.

“That's why I...”

She falters, and blue eyes snap up to hers with slight cautionary in them —anticipation, even. She cannot make this harder on her companion. Or on herself. She cannot bring herself to say it. Her heart wants to unleash, but her mind throws up the walls, screaming _“danger”_ , and she must listen. She must obey. She must let her go.

“—That's why you're you.”

Blue eyes flicker with uncertainty for a moment as if they had caught glimpse of her close mistake, but she tries to force herself to remain stoic in her features. She must.

Blue eyes drop for a moment, and she watches as she swallows it down roughly and nods it away as if it were not there at all before her eyes return to hers. Disappointed blue eyes.

“Maybe someday you and I will owe nothing more to our people,” she says to her instead, speaking from a place she knows she cannot escape. Unselfishness. It is what she has always been the moment she met her. But she knows what she truly means. She can see it hidden in those blue eyes. They cannot hide from hers, because her eyes have told the same story.

_Maybe someday we will bear this weight no longer._

_Maybe someday we will be free._

_Maybe someday._

“I hope so.”

Her voice is restraining what she wants to feel, and she tries to find reassurance in the form of a small smile, but it only lingers for a second before it disappears. Blue eyes search for it, almost as if the life —the small remaining hope— in them depends on it before it is forced away for good. They cannot find it so easily.

It hurts. Her heart truly hurts, telling her she has betrayed it once again. It is angry with her, as her mind tries to rationalize it, telling her that this is the way it must be. That they have duties to uphold. She strains her next action, her chest tight with regret.

But she cannot hurt again.

She must let her go, for the sake of the walls she has spent so long building. For the sake of 'what is right'. For the sake of their obligations, and she holds her arm out to her instead.

“May we meet again,” she forces herself to say, though there is sadness integrated with her false light tone. She is not sure how much longer she can force this away, to remain serene as blue eyes pierce into hers with questioning, wonder, confusion...agony swarming in them. It pains her to look upon them, even as she tries to pretend she is not affected.

She wants to let go, to turn away and forget and never look back, but _she_ is not letting her go. _Her_ fingers are pressing into her arm, holding onto her as if the moment _she_ lets go of her, all of her will disappear.

And it would.

_She_ knows this now. _She_ is suddenly seeing it; her brow creasing with this realization slowly dawning upon her, and her lips part as she draws in a breath, but no words come.

Instead, she steps toward her, and before she has time to question her actions, or stop her with reasoning, she begins to close the distance between them with a hand on the back of her head, pulling her in, and she cannot find the strength or the wish to stop her.

Her heart is in her throat at the moment of contact, bursting with desire and ache, with emotions that she's kept stowed away for ages, and it burns. It is burning the walls that she took so much time constructing. A near lifetime she had spent building this wall to be impenetrable, unbreakable, resilient; and here it is, falling to pieces in an instant, burning her. It burns worse than the flames of her anger and hatred that have protected her for years. It is overwhelming her. It is overpowering her. It brings tears to her eyes, and she cannot stop it.

But she wants it to burn.

She presses into the kiss, feeling the flames grow, but she needs to pull back because she has to see. She needs to see her eyes. To see that she is not the only one. That she feels the same way. That she is burning as well. And when she does, she is met with teary blue eyes full of hurt and regret, but also with desperation.

They are just like hers.

Her blue eyed familiar wastes no time as she hastily leans into her again, kissing her more roughly, and she reciprocates with just as much. She tilts her head to dive deeper into the flames, bringing her hands up to her head, entangling in her blonde hair. The burning is only growing with each movement; with each breath released between kisses that are becoming rougher with want. She cannot stop the tears as they slowly leak from her eyes, mixing with hers, and she can taste them in their kiss.

She feels hands sliding up her shoulders, releasing the back of her top; fingers grazing skin that has gone long without touch. She slides one of her own hands to her side, gripping it lightly and with a gentle tug that brings her body closer.

However, she continues forward without her pull, causing her to step back with each passionate kiss pressing into her until the back of her knees meet her bed, and she falls back until she is sitting. She searches her glossy eyes desperately, but she does not have to look hard, as fiery desire is piercing right back at her. They are nearly screaming at her, questioning for permission, pleading for reassurance, frightened with acceptance, and hers are screaming right back.

They are the same.

She needn't pull her down, as she is already descending on her, diving into the flames that are burning around them; inside of them. Her lips are upon hers once more; waves of blonde showering down around her, blocking out the rest of the world so that all she can see is her.

But all she has ever seen is her.

The fire is racing down her arms and to her hands in a fervent desperation to touch her. She runs them along the curves of her soft frame like flames to a building; consuming all that it touches with a sense of possession. Their lips move firmly against one another as if in battle with the desire to win, and yet they move together as if in dance with the necessity of the other; becoming familiar with their made up rhythm.

She is hungry for it. Starved for this affection, but a thought crosses her mind as pale pink lips move down to the light bronze skin of her neck in the rising heat. She had always thought this was something she sought after they had shared their first kiss, —of course it was— but perhaps...perhaps this was actually something she _needed_.

It had been so long since anyone had touched her with such soft affection, with deep desire, with...love, that she had forgotten such a wondrous thing could even exist. Her heart had become like that of her armor; hardened with years of battle engraved into it. Unable to bend, unable to yield, unable to feel.

But _she_ is cracking it, and it is slowly crumbling away, revealing suppressed vulnerable tenderness underneath that has been hidden away and protected for as long as she can remember. Each kiss is breaking more and more of her armor, causing her to feel more. And she is becoming raw.

She can feel it now. She can feel the ache and the pain; the loss and the lust; the fear and the hope. But this is something more than lust; something she hasn't felt in a long time…something deeper.

Suddenly, she feels panic rise within her. She has pushed this away for so long that she has forgotten. She has forgotten that this was something that she could feel. Was she ready for this? Could she handle this?

Because of this sudden realization she pulls back, placing a hand to stop her suitor's actions. She pulls back as well, staring at her with worried eyes full of questioning and uncertainty.

“Clarke, I...” she trails off, her throat still tight as another tear escapes her.

She tries to find the right words, her eyes turning away for only a moment, and she realizes just how _raw_ she is underneath. Could she really take off _all_ of her armor?

Did she even know how?

“Forgive me, I am ashamed.” she shakes her head as she starts to sit up. Perhaps this was not the best decision, and she feels foolish.

“What's wrong?” she asks gently, but there is so much concern woven into her shaky words.

“I… —This is not the right decision. I am making myself seem vulnerable.” She wipes her tears away roughly, her stoical demeanor returning to her. “This is not what a Heda does.”

She should stay true to their decision — _her_ decision. That is what she decided was best, and they should stick to it.

She waits for her to say something, _anything_. She waits for her anger to unleash upon her for this abrupt change of motion. For dragging her back here. For opening up old wounds.

She stares hard at her.

“ _Then, don't be Heda.”_

She doesn't demand it of her, but pleads though her voice is firm. Her words stop her, freezes her, and she can only stare into those imploring blue eyes.

Don't be Heda? How? Heda is who she is. She is nothing but...right?

When she does not quickly respond to her request, the sensitive blonde continues; her next words striking the armor she had just begun to reapply. “Just be Lexa.”

_Just be Lexa._

_Be Lexa._

Could she 'just be Lexa'? Did she even remember how? Did she even know who _Lexa_ was anymore?

She tries to think, tries to remember how to _be Lexa_ , and as blue eyes pour into her own with anxious desperation; telling her that she needs this just as much, that she needs _Lexa_ and not _Heda_ , she realizes what she needs to do.

She needs to stop thinking.

Far too long she has thought with her head. — _Heda_ has thought with her head.

In this moment, she needed to be _Lexa_ , not just for herself, but for Clarke, and she did something she had not done in a long time. She spoke with her heart.

“I'm...I'm afraid.”

She feels embarrassment paint thickly on her face at how...vulnerable the words were that escaped from a mouth that spoke nothing but fearlessness, and as she stares up into her eyes, she does not look at her as if she is a wounded animal, or with pity, or anything related with weakness. They are eyes full of pained understanding and deep compassion.

Instead, gentle fingers grab her hand, and presses it to her chest so that she can feel her heart. It is racing beneath her palm.

“I am too.” she nods, and from this confession of hers brings a rush of confidence like that before a battle, in the midst of hidden fear. She is not alone. They are in this, together, and her heart swells. This time she presses her lips to hers eagerly.

She is ready to face this battle, because she is not facing it alone.

Logic and thought have become abandoned as feelings begin to take the form of actions. She is touching her, experiencing her, pulling her into her with a sense of need; with desire fueling the fires thriving within their hearts. She wants to feel all of her, underneath the layer of armor those blue eyes have put up. She needs to feel her, to feel flesh on her flesh, to feel the heat from her skin, and she pulls at the fabric separating that from her.

She sits up and allows her to pull her shirt up over her head; blonde hair cascading down around her shoulders, and it is a beautiful sight to see. She is struck in awe at the sight before her, causing blue eyes to momentarily look away with nervousness, and she bites her lip as she reaches her hand out, almost as if she has to make sure it is truly real before any other action.

Describing her skin as soft as silk would be a restrained statement. It is inviting. It is warm, as if she is touching the sun, and it sends sparks into her fingertips.

“Clarke...” she whispers, sitting up to her because she needs to feel her close, and their lips are performing their dance of battle once again.

Fingertips slide up her bare back, causing a shudder to escape those pale pink lips; her warming breath colliding against her own. Hands are cupping her jaw as they continue to kiss, and as she parts her lips to increase pressure, she feels warm velvet run across her bottom lip. She tentatively lets her own venture out, and they meet with a burst of tingling warmth. The taste is sweet.

As the heat rises and their acts become more aggressive, she feels fingers eagerly tugging at her shirt. She pulls back, only enough to permit her to remove the article of clothing, and they reconnect hastily once more. Upon feeling blistering flesh finally pressing against part of her own, the heat nearly makes her melt into a mixture of bliss and desire. It is warming her heart that has long been cold, and she lays back, pulling the blonde with her so that she may feel more of it.

She wraps her arms around her tiny frame in an attempt to pull her in even closer, but a new motive influences her, and she turns them over. Her lips attack the skin of her neck, bringing forth a light moan from the blue eyed beauty in the form of an exhaled breath, and a tingling runs down her spine. She inwardly promises herself she will produce the dazzling intimate sound from her again.

She runs her hands up her sides, along her arms, fingers memorizing her path until they intertwine with hers. She settles herself carefully between her thighs, and they squeeze around her as if they are afraid she will abandon her new position if they let go. But she is not leaving. She wants to hear her sounds again; she _needs_ to hear her sounds, and this pushes her to boldly move against her.

Immediately, her body tenses in reaction, and a denser moan escapes her lips. The foreign yet enticing sound causes her skin to erupt with warm tingling, and it is only thickening her desire. She moves again, repeating the reaction, and returns to her lips to thank her for such beautiful sounds. She untangles one of their hands, because it is aching to touch the bare skin underneath her. She explores her curves, feeling her ribcage as it expands with her deepening breaths, and nearly blushes when she pushes her chest up into her palm. She needn't be told what she wants her to do, and when her thumb slides gently across a sensitive area, her chest drops with a quick exhale.

She feels a hand on the back of her neck, pulling her in to kiss her harder, and her thumb continues its swirling movements on her delicate skin. She feels her hand drop down to her shoulder as she turns her head to kiss her deeper, and it snakes along her arm until it is over her hand, causing her teasing movements to stop.

However, before she can question, she feels her hand begin to gently tug on hers, and she allows her to guide it.

She pulls back and stares at her as her hand comes to rest just above her pants. Blue eyes are already fixated on hers, unblinking as if to show her it was not a mistaken gesture.

“Please,” she whispers, and she does not need to say anything more.

Her lips are back on hers as she begins take off this last article of clothing; her shoes already having been discarded without her awareness. She somewhat reluctantly pulls herself away to officially rid her pants, but as her eyes turn upon the bare woman who has already captured her entire being, she is once again frozen in admiration. How could such a brilliant beautiful thing exist in such a world so dark and cruel? She was certain now why she came from the sky. She was a beautiful, bright, burning star in a sea of cold darkness.

“ _Lexa...”_

Her name escapes from her lips, bringing her out of her trance, and her eyes snap up to blue. There is slight apprehension in her features, and her body slightly recoils with modesty. But she gives her a soft smile of reassurance, that everything she is seeing is nothing short of amazement, and she returns to her.

Though she enjoys kissing her lips, her longing demands her to feel and taste what the rest of her is like, and as she explores areas she often had only fantasized, somewhere along the way the rest of her clothing was discarded, leaving them pure. They soon become an entanglement of bare passion and desire; uncertain of where one starts and the other stops. The only sounds in the room are coming from them, and it is music to her ears. She is letting go, finally, and only allowing herself to feel.

Breathing becomes replaced with panting and whimpers; delicate utterances becoming low rasping moans. Soft gentle touches now gripping and clawing at each other in an anxious need for more. Their movements are quick, but powerful and determined. They are no longer being careful or kind like when they had first started, as their emotions have become liberated; displaying their true selves to one another, all for them to see. All for her to see.

And she is beautiful.

She is beautiful in the way that her mouth falls open and her eyes close when she touches her most intimate sacred areas.

She is beautiful in the way that she hisses her name off of her tongue when she becomes lost in overwhelming sensations caused by her.

She is beautiful in the way that she stares intensely at her with blue eyes of anticipation, adoration...love.

They keep up their pace graciously, only one goal in their minds. Driven with desire to bring the other to a deeper path that they have never before traveled together, and they clutch onto one another in pure ecstasy as they reach their destination.

She bites down onto her pale neck with a rasping full-throated groan as her body trembles, and she sinks her nails into her bronzed skin achingly, arching her back as a lengthy resounding moan escapes from deep within her chest.

Nothing else matters in this moment. All of the responsibilities, the obligations, the pressing weight of duty lifts from them. They have become unitary with another, sharing something that only they could understand. And it is pure bliss.

She can finally _breathe_.

She pulls back to stare into those beautiful blue eyes. Their quick breaths are colliding harshly as they clutch onto one another as if their souls depend on it. She raises a hand to wipe away the blonde hair that is sticking to her skin, and she truly smiles. Her eyes are holding such strong emotion that is shining, burning, within them —like a bright star— and they are _alive._

In this moment, they are no longer Heda or Wanheda.

In this moment, they are just Lexa and Clarke.

In this moment, _they are free._


End file.
